Senses
by Bailation
Summary: The five senses of Ron and Hermione are viewed as they tell each other how each were attracted to the other by sight, smell, hearing, feel, and even taste. Series of one-shots.
1. Sight

Hidden away above Weasley Wizard Wheezes in Diagon Alley lay a quiet little flat, which was occupied by the two current owners of the joke shop that lay below them.

After the life-changing downfall of Lord Voldemort, Ron Weasley had been accepted as part-owner of the joke shop his brothers, Fred and George, had founded. George, who now realized he needed someone supporting him with the shop, had not only accepted Ron's invitation for working at the shop when he needed it, but made Ron part-owner, and allowed him to move in with him above the shop.

Now, however, the door to that same little flat ripped open as a very irritable Ron Weasley stormed inside. He tore open the pantry, withdrew a bottle of firewhisky and a glass, poured a hearty amount of the drink in the glass, and downed the whole thing in one gulp.

Today had been horrible, mostly owing to the fact that it was the one-year anniversary of the last battle that ended the life of the Dark Lord, and coincidentally, the lives of dozens of others, including Fred.

George had started the day off by staying in bed and sulking, forcing Ron to open the shop on his own (he swore they should get the day off, it's marked down as a sort of Independence Day, isn't it?). Then, to make matters worse, the joke shop was extra packed, and only Ron and Verity (an employee who still stuck with George and Ron after the war) were present to handle it.

George didn't come out of his room all day, and he was still in there now, as Ron sank into an armchair, bottle of firewhisky in hand. Ron and Verity had closed the shop on their own, at which time Ron had stomped off to the flat he shared with George, ready to give him an earful. He, Ron, was Fred's brother too, and he had gone through much more than George ever had done, being the best mate of Harry Potter. So what made George so special that he could lie in bed all day sulking?

But now, Ron didn't feel much like yelling at George, especially since he was already a bit tipsy from the firewhisky.

To make the day any worse, Ron had received a Patronus from Hermione informing him that they couldn't get together that night as he had asked because she already had plans with Ginny.

So now he was alone for the night, with only moping George and a bottle of firewhisky for company.

Ron sighed and rose from the armchair. He was just considering going to bed (without getting blasted drunk) when there was a knock at the door. He set the bottle down and opened the door to find Hermione standing before him, looking quite solemn.

Even the sight of her made him brighten in the slightest. He couldn't help it, the fact that he was together with Hermione Granger could make him content for days on end.

"Hi," she said, giving him a small smile and walking past him into the flat.

"Hey," said Ron thickly. "What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be with Ginny."

"She cancelled," said Hermione simply, frowning at the half-empty firewhisky bottle on the counter. She picked it up and stared at Ron, raising an eyebrow at him and waiting, with a hand on her hip, for an explanation.

"I only had one glass," Ron grinned, both the alcohol of the firewhisky and his bad mood now finding their way out of his system. He rather liked it when they argued, and he knew this was the start of a small row.

"Yes, but the stuff is strong," said Hermione reprovingly. "Ron, please don't do this to yourself, it could lead to other things…"

"Hermione," said Ron, grabbing her by the shoulders. "It was only because I had a bad day. I promise, I won't resort to firewhisky in the future." He gave her a small smile and he could tell that she knew he meant it. "Come to me instead, okay?" she offered.

"Yeah, I will." Ron then wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly, a much more proper greeting. When he pulled away, he held her by the shoulders at arm's length to look at her. "So what d'you want to do tonight? George is in his room sulking, been in there all day…maybe we could go out…"

Hermione rose an eyebrow, and Ron realized how beautiful she looked when she was about to scold him. "Shouldn't you go check on him?"

"Nah, it's best to leave him alone, especially today…" Ron frowned and gazed into space, thinking about this exact day a year before. Hermione took his face into her hands and made his face turn to hers.

"It's alright to think about him," she told him. "Fred, I mean. And we don't have to do anything tonight if you don't want to –"

She was cut off by Ron's lips upon hers, the only thing Ron needed to indulge in at the moment. She sighed against his lips, wishing that the moment could last forever. But only too soon, Ron pulled away and looked her deep in the eyes. "I do want to. I need something to distract me, and as I remember, today is the anniversary of something else as well."

Hermione rolled her eyes and wrapped her arms around his waist. She knew exactly what he was talking about, of course. Their first kiss had taken place in the middle of the last battle.

"You always have to make the first move," Ron suddenly told her, remembering the night as clearly as ever.

"If I hadn't, I may have been waiting forever for you," she shot back. She dropped her arms from around his waist, and walked over to the nearby stove and started making a cup of tea, an amused expression stuck on her face.

As he watched her, Ron realized something very important regarding Hermione. He realized that despite how many times he had studied, memorized and stared at every feature Hermione possessed (her habits, the exact color of her brown eyes, the way her hair got slightly bushier when she was stressed), he really had never told her how beautiful he found her to be.

"Do you know," said Ron, jumping slightly to sit perched behind Hermione on the countertop, "I don't quite remember ever telling you how beautiful you are."

Hermione visually jumped a bit at this random comment, and turned to face him, hands on her hips, her face slightly pink. "No, I don't believe you have. Besides –" she said sadly, turning back to the tea. " – I'm not beautiful."

"WHAT?"

Ron's sudden burst of exclamation shocked Hermione and she jumped back from him. "Hermione, how can you _possibly _think that? Merlin, you're more than beautiful, you're dead _gorgeous! _How can you think –" he cut himself off, still not comprehending how someone like Hermione, who had grown from a big-toothed, bushy-haired girl into a strikingly beautiful woman, can believe she's anything but beautiful.

Ron took a step toward Hermione and took her into his arms, while she looked up at him, quite curiously, with big eyes. "Do you know how I see you? Do you even know _what_ I see in you?"

Hermione shook her head, looking a little frightened, but curious at the same time. Ron sighed. "Hermione, all I can ever see anymore is _you_, even when you're not here. Your face is always in my mind, and it helps that you're beautiful –" (Hermione turned a dark shade of scarlet) "– because if you were downright ugly, it would be a lot harder thinking of you."

Hermione frowned and looked a little hurt. "So you only like me because you think I'm pretty, do you?" she asked heatedly.

"No, no!" shouted Ron, forcing her to think the contrary. "No, Hermione, Merlin, that's not it at _all._ I'm just trying to say - I see so much more in you appearance than you do."

To his surprise, Hermione cocked her head, and looked challengingly up at him. "Like what?"

"Well, I'll tell you," Ron said, just as the tea kettle whistled behind them. He poured them both a cup a tea, and they settled on the sofa together, Hermione snuggled up into Ron's side, her head on his shoulder.

"For starters, your eyes just blow me away, period. I memorized those ages ago, but I can never get tired at looking at them. I can tell anyone who asks the exact color of Hermione Granger's eyes: soft brown with a tint of green in the middle."

Hermione blushed but did not interrupt. Ron grinned and kissed her forehead before going on. "Second, and I don't care what anyone else says, I think your hair is brilliant."

To this, Hermione scoffed, and Ron laughed. "No, really! I'm completely serious! I've loved it for such a long time Hermione, and I've always wondered why you hated it."

"Because it's out of control –"

"– which is why I love it," interrupted Ron. "It just suits you Hermione, and I like it better when it's curly versus when you straighten it."

Hermione looked surprised at this, and allowed him to go on. "And do you know, back in fifth year, when you were away at Hagrid's trying to plan his lessons for him, me and Harry started talking about girls in our year and we agreed you had the best smile, hands down. It could light up the darkest cave you know, and I think it could possibly be used against dementors.

"Merlin, I love to watch you when you find a book you were looking for. Your eyes light up and you look as if nothing could make you happier. Then I know I can be happy too, even if we're in the middle of a war.

"Hermione, you may not think it, but you're a hottie. A ton of guys would kill to just be in my place, and I know it. You're a knockout, and that's why I always wonder why, in a million years, someone as beautiful and clever as you would pick someone like me."

He turned to Hermione, who looked as if she had been stumped for the first time in her life. Then without warning, she kissed with a force that reminded him of the night she had first done it.

It was a wonderful feeling, kissing Hermione. He felt like the world was speeding by around them, but neither of them cared how old they were when they broke apart.

When Hermione finally did break away, Ron groaned and tried to lean in again for more, but she pulled away from him. "Do you want to know how I see you?"

Ron raised his eyebrows, interest flowing throughout his body. He drew an arm around her and asked, "How do you see me?"

"Well," Hermione said, pausing to drive him mad, "I don't care what others say, _I _think your freckles are adorable. I think I've memorized almost all of them."

At this, Ron's ears burned red, and Hermione laughed. "There's another. I love when your ears turn red; it tells me I've _thoroughly_ embarrassed you." Hermione smiled cheekily at him and he rolled his eyes. "Thanks for that, now I know to watch what I say around you," Ron shot back.

She leaned back against his arm, which was still around her shoulders. She smiled at him, admiring him. "I love your red hair. I know a load of people don't think so, but I happen to think gingers are incredibly sexy." She giggled and Ron knew she was watching his ears turn red again.

"Your eyes tell me so much. They're my favorite color, the color of your eyes. I'll always love that blue. I love your height too; it suits you, so – in turn – it suits me. I feel like I fit perfectly in your arms just because you're a foot taller than me." Hermione laughed, shaking her head. "I remember in our sixth year, while you were dating Lavender, Harry told me the only girl who would suit you would be a girl at least a foot shorter than you. Then he turned around and looked at me, like I should get on with it and ask you out." Ron remembered their sixth year with a rather sick feeling pulling at his stomach; Lavender had been a relatively tall girl: the same height as Harry and only a few inches shorter than Ron.

"…and do you know how that all adds up in my book?" Hermione asked him, looking straight in his eyes. Ron shook his head, grinning. "Well, I think that all adds up to a very handsome, gorgeous guy," she said, a smirk playing at her lips.

Ron couldn't take it. She had just basically poured her heart to him, and he needed to repay her. He leaned in and kissed her with the same force she had with him.

Both lost in their own private world, the two later found themselves lying on the couch, fast asleep under a blanket, their arms wrapped around each other.

Before they had fallen asleep, one last thought had surged through Ron's mind as he admiringly watched Hermione fall asleep: maybe he didn't need to go out tonight.


	2. Smell

Usually on Saturdays, Diagon Alley was packed with wizards and witches doing their weekend shopping. Today, however, it had been unusually moderate, possibly because the weather had turned on them in the middle of the day and it started raining steadily.

Ron didn't mind though, for today was Hermione's twentieth birthday. At the moment, he was hurriedly cooking a fine (and expensive) steak dinner for her while she was at the Ministry finishing her day in the Department for the Regulation of and Control of Magical Creatures. He had told her to come to his flat after work for a surprise and was expecting her in a half hour. George was in Romania visiting Charlie with Percy and Bill, so Ron needn't worry about him barging in. He had planned a whole evening for Hermione and wanted everything to turn out perfect.

At half past six, Ron heard the faint _pop_ outside the door to his flat, alerting him that Hermione was about to knock on the door. With a wave of his wand, he added the final touch to the dinner that now stood proudly on his small dining table: the two candles in the center of the table lit and Ron rushed to open the door as Hermione knocked.

She had barely said a thing before Ron's lips found hers. He kept them both in that same position, kissing on the threshold, for a good long time, before he finally broke the kiss.

"Hi," she said, looking a bit flustered from the abrupt greeting. "Why are _you_ so passionate today?"

"Well, I remember correctly, we have a bit of a reason to celebrate tonight," said Ron, pulling her closer to him by the waist.

"Oh!" exclaimed Hermione, looking like she had just remembered something. "Oh yes, I had almost forgotten…"

"You had almost forgotten your own birthday?" teased Ron, looking very amused.

"Well, I've been busy today, and it just wasn't my main priority." Hermione looked rather frazzled, and Ron felt a surge of sympathy towards her. She worked so hard, and she really deserved a break.

"Well," stated Ron, kissing her gently on the forehead. "Tonight, can you make your birthday your main priority?"

"Mmm…I suppose," said Hermione sarcastically. She shot him a smile and started to stride past him into the dining room. Ron, however, grabbed her arm, and said. "Wait."

"What?"

Ron stood behind her and snaked his hands over her eyes. "I'll lead you to it," he whispered in her ear. She shivered with delight and he grinned. He started walking forward, with Hermione following in front of him. When they were in front of the dining table which was holding Ron's beautifully prepared meal, Ron, still with his hands over Hermione's eyes, leaned over to her ear and asked, "What d'you smell?"

Whether Hermione found this an odd question or not, she did not show it. "Steak," she proclaimed instantly. Ron grinned and slid his hands from around her eyes.

Hermione's expression was priceless, her eyes lit up and her mouth dropped, looking as if she had just found out she was visiting the world's largest library. "Ron, this is brilliant! How long did it take you to make…?"

"Only about three hours," said Ron, acting as if it had been no big deal. In the end, he felt like it _hadn't_ been a big deal, because it had been completely worth it to see the look on Hermione's face.

Ron and Hermione sat down and enjoyed the meal, which turned out to be exquisitely good. Ron wouldn't admit it, but he had helped his mother in the kitchen when she was preparing meals while he was growing up, and he had learned a thing or two about cooking.

After the meal (and a few charms done by Hermione to clean up the mess, at which point Ron told her she wasn't allowed to do housework on her birthday) he and Hermione sat back on the couch in his living room, fully stuffed to the point of bursting.

"So, what d'you want to do now?" Ron asked her. "It's your night."

Hermione shook her head slightly, staring deeply into his eyes, looking like she would never look away. "Nothing."

Ron raised his eyebrows. "Nothing?"

"Nothing."

And in a flash, Hermione had her arms wrapped around his neck and was kissing him more soundly and passionately than ever before. She broke off earlier than expected, and Ron watched as she burrowed her face into his neck, only emerging a short while later to kiss him repeatedly on his jaw line. "Do you know what I could smell in the Amortentia potion?"

Ron frowned. "Amort - what?"

"The love potion Slughorn showed us in sixth year!" Hermione said, urging him to remember. "C'mon, you remember!"

"Oh- oh yeah!" said Ron, the memory coming back to him. "Didn't you say you smelled new parchment, and I think the other thing was - fresh cut grass?"

"Yes," Hermione said, "but that's not all."

Ron frowned, feeling like this was leading to something about him. He stared at her, and she blushed a deep scarlet. "The third thing I smelled in the potion...was your hair."

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, and certain he had heard wrong. "You smelled my_ hair_?" Hermione nodded, the blush now looking as if it the heat was radiating off of her face. Ron, however, sat back, feeling absolutely stunned. If Hermione smelled any part of him in a love potion, that must mean she loved him more than anything or anyone else.

Finally, after a long, billowing silence, Ron sat up and cleared his throat. "Well, I hadn't smelled that potion, but if I had, I'm pretty sure I would've smelled your hair too." Hermione broke into a smile and said, "Really?"

"Yeah." Hermione just stared at him, her blush now completely faded away. "Do you want to know what you smell like to me?"

Ron laughed awkwardly; had he heard right? "What I smell like to you?" he repeated.

"Yes," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "You smell like…like firewood and Quidditch leather gloves…and a bit of a musty scent, but in a good way, like I'm at the Burrow." Hermione shrugged and smiled at him. "You smell like Ron."

"Good to know," said Ron, not quite sure how to react to this random comment. However, he decided to play along anyway. "You want to know what_ you _smell like?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows, and Ron took this as a yes. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply. He already knew what she smelled like, of course, after many years of memorizing her scent, but he felt like perplexing Hermione while enjoying her smell at the same time would be rather pleasurable.

His plan worked. Hermione turned her head to face him and said, "What are you doing?"

"Smelling you," said Ron, moving his face down to her neck. "I can't very well tell you what you smell like without smelling you," he said, playing dumb. He gently kissed her ear and inhaled the nape of her neck, at which point Hermione laughed out loud. "Stop, Ron – that tickles!" she gasped.

Ron surfaced and looked her in the eyes, kissing her softly on the lips. "I think you smell like…roses. And new parchment…and new books, and fresh winter air, like you were just in the snow. It's actually a rather intoxicating scent, if I do say so myself." He leaned further in with every word and finally reached Hermione's lips, kissing her rather slower than before. After quite some time, he pulled away and kept his forehead touching hers. "You smell like Hermione."

"Good to know," Hermione replied, mimicking his smart comment. Ron wrapped both his arms around her and she wrapped hers around him and they sat there, enveloped in each other's embrace, watching the dying embers in the fireplace glow bright red.

Right as they were about to fall asleep, Ron whispered into Hermione's hair, while inhaling her rose-parchment-book-winter scent, "Happy Birthday, Hermione."


	3. Hearing

Thousands of years ago, the queen of Egypt (who, incidentally, was a witch hidden in the world of Muggles), Cleopatra, was worshipped by her country as she, with a feeling of content, sat on her throne, surveying the lands she was proudly responsible for.

Now, thousands of years later, Hermione Granger felt just like Cleopatra, but for several significantly different reasons. She was worshipped by the wizarding world around her, not because she was a queen; but because she had been part of the Golden Trio, who had all helped destroy the most evil wizard of all time. Instead of sitting on a throne and surveying her successful lands, Hermione helped the wizards and witches rebuild the world they had lost for so long, and she learned it could never have been rebuilt if it wasn't for her, Ron, and especially Harry.

She heard many rumors float around after the war (especially through the Daily Prophet) about things, which seemed so important before when they were in school, now hardly even mattered. For example, someone wrote an article questioning if Hermione and Harry Potter was a couple now that the war was over. Harry denied this when others came along asking about it, and Hermione made sure it got out that it was not she and Harry Potter, but she and Ron Weasley, who was the couple.

Ron was praised, for the first time in his life, along with his best friends, for saving the wizarding world. All three of them were the talk of the entire wizarding community for years to come. It seemed none of them remembered anything in the past, not about the Ministry making Harry look like a liar, or the Death Eaters making it known that Hermione was Muggle-born. They were all heroes in the eyes of the magical people around them, and it made life a whole lot better in Hermione's eyes.

Currently, Hermione was in her flat, only a block down from Ron and George's, listening to a recorded interview with Ron Weasley on the wireless, which the newly established show, _Trio Talk_, was replaying from the week before. She had turned it on automatically and was absentmindedly listening to it as she washed the dishes the Muggle way. She had discovered _Trio Talk _a month ago, and listened to it only to hear Harry and Ron's voices when she was really missing them. Even almost a year after the war, the Trio still earned the most attention in the wizarding world, and the press craved interviews and attention from all of them.

On the wireless, the interviewer was talking directly to Ron alone, as he had done with Hermione and Harry. "Mr. Weasley, obviously you have been through a major life-changing event. What are your plans for the future?"

There was a pause and then, "Well – er –" (Ron was still awkward about questions like these, and Hermione smiled, because she knew he had been blushing during this interview just by listening to his tone of voice) "- I'm helping my brother out in his shop at the moment, you know, Weasley Wizard Wheezes. I think once I'm done with that, I'll want to start Auror training. I'm really just not sure at the moment; I'm going where my life takes me."

Hermione smiled as she finished the dishes. She loved listening to Ron's voice. As she sat on her couch next to the wireless, the interviewer's voice turned sly as he said, "Now, we've heard from a number of sources that you and a certain Hermione Granger are still going strong after a year together. Can you still see her in your future?"

Hermione blushed herself as she knew Ron's ears had probably been scarlet when this was recorded. She loved Ron more than anything, and she knew Ron loved her too, because he was keen on telling her with little hints at every chance he got. He loved her, but he wasn't one to scream it off the rooftops, and it was an awkward and embarrassing topic when someone interrogated him about it.

After what felt like an eternity worth of pauses, Ron surprised Hermione, not for the first time, by speaking his mind and heart on the most unpredictable occasion.

"She's brilliant. I definitely see her in my future, and I can only hope she'll stay with me forever. I know her better than I know myself, and we've been through so much together the last eight years, all three of us, Harry included.

"She was my best friend for so long that after a few years, I didn't realize I was falling in love with her until…well…a few years after that. Now, especially after the war and everything we've been through, I can't even imagine life without Hermione."

Ron was silent and the interviewer thanked him, and then just like that, the interview was over and a new program was starting. Silent tears of happiness fell down Hermione's face as, with a flick of her wand, she turned the wireless off, still staring at it as though expecting Ron to jump out of it.

There was suddenly a knock at the door, which startled Hermione, who wiped her eyes quickly and strode to the door and opened it to reveal a very content-looking Ron Weasley. Hermione didn't hesitate, but flew at him, kissing him more passionately and less appropriate for a greeting kiss. When they finally broke apart, Ron said with his eyebrows raised, "Hi."

"I was listening to your interview," Hermione said instantly, feeling maybe she shouldn't have acted on the adrenaline that was coursing through her.

"Which one?" asked Ron, taking a step closer to her, his expression a bit amused. "I've been interviewed a fair amount of times in the last year."

"It was the one from last week, when they interviewed you alone on _Trio Talk_," Hermione said, feeling the heat radiate off her face. Ron suddenly realized what she was talking about, and, turning a deep scarlet from the tips of his ears down to the base of his neck, said, "Thought you wouldn't hear that."

"I'm glad I did," said Hermione, regaining the confidence in her voice. "I never knew you felt that strongly about me."

Ron looked thoroughly embarrassed, but he said, "I didn't think you would need to hear it. I though you already knew it."

"It's nice to hear it sometimes," Hermione said, stepping even closer to him. "What if you heard something like that from me? Like, 'I love you, Ron?'"

"I would say that would sound pretty bloody good," said Ron, now inching closer to her too.

"Well, that's a relief," Hermione said, a smirk playing at her lips. "Because I do love you, Ron."

Ron's arms were wrapping slowly around her waist, bringing her in even closer to his body. "D'you know why I love to hear that? Because it's your voice saying it."

"What do you mean?"

"Hermione, don't you understand?" Ron said, looking as if he was understanding his logic for the first time too. "I wouldn't care if everyone in the world hated me, as long as I could still turn to you and hear your voice telling me you love me."

Hermione smiled and squeezed Ron around the middle, never wanting to let go. Ron hugged her back and whispered into her hair, "I love you, Hermione."

Once they broke apart again, Ron looked at her in that special way like he did when he knew no one else was looking but her. "I love hearing your voice," he said quietly. "That's why I knew I had to come back to you when I heard your voice come out of the Deluminator over a year ago." Hermione stared at him, a bit empty of emotions; they hadn't talked much about Ron's leaving, they both seemed to have come to an unspoken agreement that it wasn't very important anymore.

"Well, I was listening to your interview because I basically love hearing your voice too," said Hermione, feeling the urge to suddenly kiss him again.

Ron beat her to it; he suddenly swooped down and kissed her as passionately as she had done on the night of the Battle of Hogwarts.

An hour later, Ron and Hermione found themselves on Hermione's couch in front of a roaring fire, enjoying hearing each other's voices as they whispered words of comfort and love to each other until they both fell asleep.


	4. Feeling

Hermione sighed as she placed the last of the boxes containing her possessions by the door to her new flat. Today had been the day she was moving into her new flat, which she was renting while working her job out of the Ministry. It had only been three weeks since she had finished her education at Hogwarts (without Harry and Ron, but thankfully with the company of Ginny and Luna) and she had already received many offers for jobs all over the wizarding world in the last year. After helping defeat the most evil wizard of all time, Hermione Granger had become quite famous.

Ron lived only a few blocks down from her flat. His roommates consisted of Harry and George, and they all shared a flat above Weasley Wizard Wheezes, of which Ron and George now shared ownership. Hermione secretly wished she could live with them, but she suspected it wouldn't be long until Ron asked her to move in with him. He had written her almost daily while she attended Hogwarts in the last year, and she had gratefully written back just as hastily. For the meantime, Hermione suspected she wouldn't be living alone for long. Ginny had just finished school along with Hermione, and though she was now living at the Burrow, Hermione assumed that, like herself, Ginny missed having another girl as a roommate.

Ron suddenly appeared at Hermione's side with a _pop _that told her he had just Disapparated from her parents' house, heaving three boxes stacked onto one another. "Merlin Hermione, what have you got in these, rocks?"

"You could have Levitated them, you know," smirked Hermione, finding herself staring at the lovely way Ron's arms flexed as he lowered the boxes to the ground. The white T-shirt he wore had a particularly nice effect on his biceps, which had soon emerged more visibly in the first few weeks of his Auror training.

"Yeah, but who wants to do that when they're trying to show off for their girl, eh?" Hermione giggled as Ron placed a hand on her waist, pulling her in for a kiss, but Hermione ducked out of the way and said, "So that's why you were taking three boxes at once?"

"The one and only reason," said Ron, now capturing her lips with his. His lips had always been the softest she had ever felt, not that she had felt many, but she savored every moment she could feel any part of Ron.

She was suddenly, only semiconsciously, running her fingers through his flaming hair. Her brain was going haywire, different parts of it were screaming at her what she should be focusing on…the feel of his lips melting with hers…the fact that his hands were moving in her hair, over her face, down the side of her body back to her waist…the faint awareness of her own hands running through his hair, up and down his wonderfully muscular arms and up to his face, where they tangled themselves into his hair once again…

It seemed to be hours before Hermione became conscious of reality. Realizing they had been kissing in a very public corridor, she quickly pulled away, much to the displeasure of an affronted-looking Ron.

"Sorry," Hermione apologized, clutching both of Ron's arms to make sure he didn't storm away furiously. "But we're kind of doing this in a public place."

Ron grinned, leaning an arm against the wall Hermione was already backed up against. "So let's continue it inside," he said, pushing open the door to Hermione's new flat, which was, at the moment, completely empty except for the few boxes Hermione had pushed into it.

Hermione, however, pushed away from him. "I'm sorry, Ron, I really need to unpack if I want to have a fully-constructed bed to sleep in tonight." She smiled at him as a sudden thought struck her. "I'll see you tomorrow, unless you want to stay and help?"

Ron grinned, and Hermione knew she had him. For the rest of the day, Ron and Hermione unpacked her many belongings, most of which she had brought back from her home she had grown up in. The unpacking got done in the matter of a few hours, delayed a bit because of Ron's need to sidetrack Hermione every few moments by running his hands up and down her waist, and kissing her neck. However, thanks to the many charms done by Hermione, which summoned the belongings to their proper places (and a few charms of Ron's that required Hermione to fix the objects with the _Reparo _charm), the delay was simply viewed as another sign of Ron's love toward Hermione.

Ron stayed late into the evening, with no complaints from Hermione. Finally, at a quick look at the clock, he realized he was late for a prior commitment he had made to Harry involving the Leaky Cauldron and the phrase "boys' night".

Upon leaving, Ron turned back to Hermione, and said, "I'm going to drop by tomorrow after work; I have a surprise for you."

She raised her eyebrows, curiosity sparking her interest. She didn't press the topic, but stood on tiptoes to kiss him with as much passion as she could muster.

Ron winked at her once they had broken apart and Disapparated on the spot. Hermione, now feeling a strange sensation of loneliness, turned to retreat to bed.

Ron turned up the next evening, as promised, on Hermione's threshold. She answered the door, forgetting the wireless was on, currently broadcasting an interview with Ron Weasley on the reformed _Potterwatch_ channel.

The real Ron Weasley stood before her with his hands behind his back, his trademark smirk painted across his face. Hermione barely could utter a greeting before Ron had wrapped an arm around her waist and was kissing her more soundly and meaningful than ever.

They broke apart much too soon, and Hermione savored the feel of Ron's hand on her waist, which was moving lower slowly the longer they stood there. Finally, Hermione, shaking herself from Ron's hypnotic trance, wiggled out of his grip and tried looking around him to see what he was hiding behind his back. Ron simply moved so his body still obscured his other hand. Hermione raised her eyebrows and placed her hands on her hips.

"What have you got behind your back, Ron?" she asked, half exasperated and half amused at his odd audacity to come into her home like this and not expect her to ask questions.

Ron simply frowned as he appeared to be listening to the wireless, from which his own voice was pending. "What are you listening to?" he asked, though she could tell he already knew.

Hermione blushed as she ignored his question and listened to the Ron on the wireless.

"I love Hermione. More than anything, and I know that for sure. I know that I would do anything for her, and even if we weren't together, I still would make sure she was in my life somehow. I'll take her however I can get her, that's how much she means to me."

The wireless Ron went silent, and Hermione, now a bright, boiling scarlet, flicked her wand toward the wireless, which immediately turned off. She was staring at the Ron who stood before her, his eyes never leaving hers and his arm still behind his back. He was frozen with shock and he was staring at her in horror. Hermione, tired of feeling embarrassed when feelings between the two came up in a conversation, shook her head irritably. "So I listen to your old interviews when I'm alone at home, so what?"

Ron was silent, and then, shaking himself from his trance, revealed what his hand was clutching behind his back: a bouquet of red roses, which he presented to Hermione. "I was hoping these would show you how much you mean to me, but I reckon I don't need them now that you've heard me spill my guts out on a public radio show." Ron smiled faintly and Hermione smiled back, accepting the roses. "I put a charm on them so they will last forever and another one so they will change color with your mood. I have another rose that does the same, so I'll know if you need me or not." Ron grinned a bit and continued. "It's also a bit beneficial to me, because I'll know when to avoid you, especially if you're furious with me."

Hermione hadn't said a word since he had given her the roses, which were now turning violet. She could only stare at Ron and think of how amazingly wonderful he was and how wonderfully lucky she was.

"What does violet mean?" she finally asked, watching the flowers turn lighter and lighter.

"Oh – hold on," Ron rummaged through his pockets, finally withdrawing a small piece of parchment he handed to Hermione, which bore his untidy scrawl. "You can keep that, I have another copy. Violet is content, but the lighter it gets the happier you are. When it hits white, you're the happiest you can possibly be."

Hermione studied the card…red meant angry, she assumed the roses would probably be turning a dark shade of scarlet more often than a pure shade of white…blue was sad, the darker the blue became the more upset she was…and black meant deeply depressed…

Hermione looked up at Ron, her eyes shining with unshed tears; the prospect of Ron doing advanced charmwork for absolutely no occasion just for her was simply overwhelming.

Ron, seeing the tears sparkle in her eyes, bent to look her in her eyes, and, as she let her tears of happiness fall, Ron brushed them away with his thumbs, muttering, "Please love, don't cry…"

Hermione gave a squeak of defeat, and threw her arms around Ron's waist, hugging his body to hers. "I love you, Ron."

She felt Ron lay a gentle kiss on her head and he lead her to the couch in the living room. "I love you, Hermione."

Hermione smiled at the sound of intensity in his voice, and gripped Ron's hands, feeling the roughness of his Quidditch-endured fingers. As if reading her mind, Ron suddenly stated, "You're so soft."

Hermione looked up quickly, his piercing blue eyes meeting hers. "What?"

"Everything about you," said Ron, his eyes never leaving hers and his hands clutching hers. "Your hands, your face, your lips…" Ron trailed off as his ears turned a faint pink. "Everything about you is soft."

Hermione grinned a bit confused, not sure how to take this compliment. But that was the wonderful idea about Ron; he was full of surprises.

"Do you want to know how _you_ feel to me?" asked Hermione, one of her fingers tracing circles on his palm; she felt him shiver with delight. He nodded slowly, a smirk playing at his lips.

"Well, your hands are a bit rough…but I think that's from playing Quidditch and Auror training, of course. They suit you, very Ron-ish. The rest of you is soft, especially your lips. All except your arms; their rather…muscular…" Hermione blushed and trailed off embarrassingly.

"My arms?" asked Ron, grinning evilly, obviously very entertained by Hermione's embarrassment. "Do you check me out when I'm not looking?"

Hermione gave a small smile. "Maybe."

Before she had time to process much more of what was happening, he was kissing her again…the feel of his soft lips on hers was intoxicating…

They broke apart, and Ron checked the time on his watch, and yelped. Hermione checked the nearby clock, and she saw what he meant; it was nearly midnight.

"I should go," said Ron, jumping to his feet. Hermione, however, quickly grabbed his arm before he could walk away. "No!" she exclaimed, not wanting him to go at all. "Just…stay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," said Hermione, quite certain she wasn't as sure about anything else. "Tomorrow's Saturday, I don't have work, and George doesn't open the shop till noon." She raised an eyebrow at him, and he sunk down back at her side.

"Alright," he said, slipping off his shoes and snuggling closer to Hermione as they lay down together on the couch.

Before falling asleep, Hermione gently kissed the temple of her already-sleeping Ron. This was how she wanted to fall asleep each night, with the feel of Ron's body against hers, and knowing that no matter what happened, Ron would always want her, somehow, in his life.

* * *

Hermione woke early in the morning the next day to the feel of an empty spot next to her on the couch. She opened her eyes to see a shirtless Ron slipping on the T-shirt he had removed in the middle of the night. She stared at him, mesmerized by everything about him. He turned around, and upon seeing that she was awake, asked, "Were you checking me out?"

Hermione smiled and turned a faint pink. "Maybe."

Ron chuckled and leaned down to kiss her gently on the lips. "Then I must be the luckiest man on the planet," he whispered. "I love you, Hermione."

He drew up to full height, winked at Hermione, giving her the feeling that he would only do it to her, and Disapparating on the spot.


	5. Taste

Ron stood in front of the door to his flat, having just Disapparated in front of it moments previously. He sighed as he unlocked the door and stepped inside. It had been a long day in the Auror office and he had only just returned from helping George out at the shop for three hours right after work.

Ron immediately hurried into his bedroom to strip off his work robes and change into a pair of jeans and a Chudley Cannons T-shirt. He strolled back into the kitchen, thinking now of making himself a small dinner, when something in the living room stopped him in his tracks.

The rose that he had charmed to match Hermione's mood lay on a small table next to the couch, where Ron could always see it. Hermione had a matching dozen of the same type of flower in her flat. The roses were usually violet or red, depending if Hermione was happy or angry (usually with him, Ron). But at the moment, Ron noticed the rose was an ocean blue. Blue meant sad, upset.

Why was Hermione upset? Without hesitating, Ron immediately Apparated in front of her flat and knocked on the door. There was no answer, but he could hear a faint scuffling within the flat, which informed him that it was not empty. He dug through his pockets and removed the key that Hermione had given him. He unlocked the door and forced it open.

He was met by a mess of pots and pans in her small kitchen. The counters were covered with a layer of different seasonings and flour, along with parts of the stone floor. The whole place smelled of burned food, and there seemed to be the smell of smoke lingering, though it appeared to have cleared. In the middle of this catastrophe of a kitchen sat Hermione on the floor, tears pouring down her face, which was splotched with patches of flour. She wore an apron over her clothes (though they were as stained as the rest of her) and a thoroughly miserable expression as she looked up at him, clearly surprised.

Ron instantaneously knelt beside her, taking her face in his hands and wiping it clear of tears with his thumbs. "What happened, Hermione?"

Hermione sniffed, wiped a hand across her face, and pulled them both to their feet. She led him over to the oven, where a dish of a very green, mushy substance of who-knows-what was sitting on the stove.

"Taste it," ordered Hermione, dipping a spoon into the stuff and placing it promptly in front of Ron's closed mouth. He looked into her pleading eyes, and he knew he shouldn't refuse, no matter how disgusting the gunk was. Hermione's feelings seemed to be very highly at risk, and he wasn't about to get into a row because he refused to eat her cooking.

Reluctantly, Ron opened his mouth and allowed Hermione to feed him the stuff. However, the moment the substance touched his tongue, Ron couldn't help but grimace. It was disgusting, whatever it was. Ron could hardly identify what was in it with his taste buds; he knew there was some sort of meat in the blend. Nevertheless, Ron had stomached much worse things than Hermione's cooking; vomit-flavored Bertie Botts' Every Flavor Beans, for instance. He was determined to avoid a row and swallow the stuff.

Ron did, and regretted it instantly. He wouldn't be keeping_ that_ down for long. Many claimed he had a stomach of iron (mostly Hermione and his mother), but there came a limit, even with a stomach of iron.

"It's good," he lied, when he saw Hermione looking at him expectantly. "Very good."

But from his facial expression and his unconvincing lie, Hermione seemed to have gathered the worst. She burst into fresh tears and turned her back on Ron. She turned again with her face in her hands and spoke:

"I thought _you _would be able to eat it! I thought 'Oh, Ron eats anything, he'll like it'! But if _you _can't even stomach it, then I must be a _horrible_ cook!" Hermione burst into more tears and sank to the ground again.

Ron knelt down next to her again and hugged her tightly before holding her by the shoulders at arms' length, looking at her straight in the eyes. "Why," he said, "do you think you have to be the best at everything?"

Hermione glared at him. "I don't –"

"Yes, you do," interrupted Ron easily. "You think you have to be good at everything you try, so when something you're not so good at comes along, you go mad trying to perfect it.

"So you're not a very good cook. _So what? _It's not going to change anything. I'm still going to love you. Harry will still love you. Just because you find something you're not brilliant at, it's not going to change how anyone else feels about you."

Hermione was now staring at Ron with an expression torn between annoyance and curiosity. "I know that, Ron," she said softly, looking away from him. "I'm not trying to impress anyone else; I just want to prove to myself that I'm more than a walking library."

Ron chuckled and wrapped an arm around her, squeezing her with a one-armed hug. "You're more than just book smart, love. _I_ know that you're capable of so much more. Blimey, you've saved my arse more than a few times in the last seven years; you definitely have to be more than a walking library to do that. I think that counts for something, don't you?"

Hermione gave a shaky laugh and gently kissed his jaw line. "I suppose," she said, hugging his waist.

"So, if you've already proven to me that you're more than a walking library, can't that be counted to proving it to yourself too?" asked Ron, hoping to boost Hermione's confidence level.

Hermione looked at him with slightly less sad eyes. "I suppose," she repeated. He leaned forward and kissed her flour-covered forehead. She smiled at him and he chuckled, for the first time, at how covered she was with various splatters of food.

"You're a mess," he stated, brushing at a patch of flour on her cheek. She giggled somewhat shakily and he stood up, offering a hand to Hermione. "Go clean up. I've got this," he said, gesturing to the messy kitchen.

She nodded, and retreated to her bedroom. Ron heard the shower turn on in the bathroom a few moments later.

With a few sweeps of his wand, Ron was able to remove all traces of usage of Hermione's kitchen; in mere moments, it sparkled and gleamed as if never set foot in.

Ron left the kitchen and looked around the living room, feeling, all of the sudden, spontaneously romantic. He pointed his wand at the group of candles that Hermione kept out on the coffee table and they lit obediently. He then moved each of them to various corners of the living room. Looking around, Ron pushed back the red hair that was hanging in his face and pushed the couch and the coffee table against the wall, out of the way. He then waved his wand lazily at the wireless and changed to a channel that played slow songs, the finishing touch. He switched the lights off just as he heard Hermione turn off the shower.

Moments later, she reemerged from the hall, dressed in jeans and a jumper. It was simple, but Ron always thought she looked her best in simplicity.

Hermione looked around, and shot him a look between suspiciousness and confusion. "What's all this?"

Ron didn't answer directly, but bowed slightly to her and held out a hand. "May I have this dance, madam?" he asked, shooting her a teasing grin.

Hermione raised her eyebrows and placed her hand in his, smiling back at him. He kissed her hand, his eyes never leaving hers, before letting it find his shoulder as he placed both of his on her waist, pulling her in close. They found the feel of the music quickly, and began to relive the last time they had danced at Bill and Fleur's wedding. However, this time, Voldemort and his Death Eaters weren't threatening their lives and they weren't surrounded by dozens of other couples.

They gazed at each other for what felt like forever without exchanging any words at all. Ron thought they must look quite stupid, staring at each other with silly grins on their faces and dancing in the middle of a living room. But to him, it was absolute bliss.

It wasn't long before Ron's lips found Hermione's and he was in their own, safe haven. He knew as long as he was kissing Hermione, nothing could harm either of them. She always tasted of a blend of peaches and cinnamon sugar when they kissed, a rather intoxicating taste that only brought Ron back wanting more.

All too soon, Hermione pulled away, and Ron groaned, feeling as if she was doing this on purpose just to torture him. She laughed and said, "You taste like chocolate."

Was she reading his mind now? Ron only grinned cheekily and said, "Do I? Well, I do eat a lot of Chocolate Frogs –"

"– and it's going to catch up with you!" scolded Hermione, tickling his sides and making him squirm.

"You'll still love me though, right?" asked Ron, grabbing her round her waist again.

"Yes," said Hermione, "but I hope that doesn't happen. I love my thin Ron. He fits into my small bed with me when I'm having a nightmare."

Ron laughed and hugged her, tucking her head under his chin. "What do I taste like?"

He released her as she asked this, and stared at her. Then a wicked thought passed through his head and he said, "Well, let me see –" With that, he gently licked the side of her face, making Hermione jump back and giggle at the same time. "Ron, gross!" she exclaimed, wiping her cheek with her palm, though she was beaming like an idiot.

Ron laughed again and pulled her into him again, kissing her soundly and more passionately than before, savoring her taste and making sure he knew exactly what it was before pulling away and answering her. She looked slightly dizzy, but still looked at him expectantly.

"You taste like peaches and cinnamon sugar. I suppose a bit like strawberries too, but it's all a very Hermione-ish blend." He grinned and leaned in slowly to kiss her again.

They broke apart not long after and Ron looked at his beautiful Hermione, feeling like the luckiest man on earth. Suddenly, an impulsive thought struck him for the second time that night.

"I going to take you out," he said, waving his wand to put out the candles and shut off the wireless. "You deserve a dinner out." He put an arm around her shoulders and grabbed her bag for her. Just as they were walking out of the door, Ron glanced over Hermione's head and looked at the roses on her kitchen table, which had turned to a light violet color. Ron smiled and shut the door to Hermione's flat, holding her more tightly to his side.


End file.
